It's an Addiction
by Charlie's Hazardous Relapse
Summary: Mr. Darcy found himself addicted to a coffee shop… but it was not the drinks they served that he considered so fascinating.
1. Like an Addiction

**Addiction**

He opens the door and the smell of lattes, cappuccinos, and everything pertaining to coffee hits him in the face. People mill about the Starbucks like ants under a magnifying glass.

William Darcy hates coffee. With a passion. He doesn't like the taste. His lips curl in disgust at the smell. Most importantly, he hates the outrageous prices they deem chargeable for a simple drink. Seven dollar caffeine bomb? Ridiculous.

He also dislikes people in general… but he's had practice dealing with that one. The people whose company he actually enjoy are few and far in between. Whenever he finds an uncommon person, a person possessing all the traits he values, he wants to ensure a friendship with them. He's recently found a person like this but is convinced he wants more than a friendship. He wants a significant other. A girlfriend. A lover. He wants Elizabeth Bennet.

**0o0O0o0O0o0O0o0O0o0**

The first time he saw her was on trip to the coffee shop with his sister. Georgiana needed a latte and thought Will needed some social interaction. She made an excuse to go to the restroom and asked that he order her a latte.

He stood in the line of irksome people. They filled the air with mindless banter of meaningless topics. He didn't care about the weather. He didn't give a sincere thought about the new shoes an obnoxious woman in front of him had recently purchased with her '_Bitchin'_ alimony check. He honestly couldn't care less about global warming. There was only one thing he hated more than the stupid chatter… the fact he couldn't enjoy things like that.

William Darcy had tried. He had tried to enjoy the mundane, to accept things without meaning could still be meaningful, but in the end it was hopeless. It was as though he had a gauge of irritation in his mind when it came to insipid happenings. Smalltalk hardly registered but was still wearing. It was edging on the side of physical pain whenever he had to speak to Charlies sister. Every moment was full of 'He said, she said' gossip and discussions of the latest trend.

He was relatively young, a man of only thirty years but, in some ways, he felt archaic. People just didn't function quite like him anymore. He craved politeness and found himself starved of all traces. He opened a door for a date once and she just looked confused, like she didn't recognize the gesture. That night made him sad. He felt bad for the girl. No one had ever treated her the way she should have been treated. _Ladies first, open the door, pay the check_, his father had always told him. Why had all these things been forgotten? Chivalry seemed long extinct.

Mr. Darcy was a true cynic. A true cynic stuck in his ways. That is. . . until he meant the cashier at the local coffee shop.

She lit up the room. Though stuck here, she seemed delighted. Sure she got paid for it but…. She seemed to enjoy him especially. William liked to think she only lit up when she noticed him. He had become a regular, arriving every day before work.

She wasn't especially beautiful. Her nose was a bit flat and her hair quite frizzy. The unruly brown tresses couldn't seem to decide if they wanted to curl of be straight. The skin of her face had dots, freckles, and hastily applied makeup. She had large blue eyes. They were so calm and light they looked grey. She was almost oddly beautiful. Compared to the women he usually dated she was anonymous in the eye of the beauty world.

She looked young but mature. Mid twenties perhaps? He often thought of asking her out. If only he got the chance. She was always in such a rush.

When she took his order, she asked how he was. It was a polite question, not meant to spark a full fledged conversation, just small talk. He enjoyed it. He didn't find it pointless, quite the opposite really, he found in endearing. She didn't know how she made people feel. How her smiles thawed the iciest of New Yorker hearts, or how her soft laughter sparked a reaction of dopamine to his system. She didn't know she was different.

**0o0O0o0O0o0O0o0O0o0**

Today was the day. Today was the he asked this enigma of a girl to dinner.

He walks to the front of the store. It's practically empty. But, then again, it's six in the evening and no one needs coffee to go to sleep. He knows she works long hours. It makes him sad, knowing that the majority of her day is so lackluster. He takes a deep breath and goes to the counter. He puts his hand out in the gesture of a hand shake.

"I'm William Darcy."

With a confused look, she puts her had up to shake his. His fingers twist quickly and, instead of a hand shake, he holds her palm in his grip. He clutches her hand compellingly, but makes sure not to harm it. Her fingers feel fragile like porcelain, and are worth thousands of cheap cups of java.

"I know it short notice, I know it's crazy but- I need to know if you'll accompany me to dinner tonight possibly?"

With a hesitant smile, she tells him she gets off in ten minutes. Though not completely sure why, she feel as though this man is safe. She's seen him before and sooner than she can stop it, her mind concocts mindless romantic stories._ He comes here not for the coffee but for me. He's that prince Jane always told me about. Here to whisk me away. We'd meet somewhere odd, we'd do something crazy, and we'd fall in love._ Reason cuts these senseless thoughts short as he smiles. She gives an embarrassed giggle. She's only just met the man.

"Sounds great. I will wait for you, _my lady_."

So maybe the prince thing wasn't all that far off.

A/N: I'm not entirely sure what this is. I've been really stressed about finals coming up…. Well I guess my writing has turned into a nervous habit. I'm okay with that though. It turns out okay… most of the time. The tenses may get mixed up in the jumble but- actually, no excuse for that one. I'm not sure I like this one or if I should try to keep going. Whenever I try to force more chapters onto something… well it's never as good.

Sorry bout' that.

CHARLIE.

P.S. If you happened to enjoy it (or hate it) I'd love to hear your reviews. I'll answer each one personally.


	2. Like a Fairy Tale

_A/N: SORRY. I know this has taken forever. I had this posted but took it down. I wanted to… fix a few minor details but never got around to it. Regardless, I hope you enjoy it._

**Addiction**

The date had been beautiful. Elizabeth Bennet looks back at the night and smiles. Sitting in her apartment, she lets her mind wander into a world produced by a dopamine enriched mind.

That very evening, she feels like a princess. He waits the ten excruciatingly long minutes for her shift to end and then brings her to his magical carriage… otherwise called vintage cobalt Chevelle complete with immaculate white racing stripes. The roar of the engine depicts that of a lion. She just stares at it, dumb struck for a moment. It isn't until he taps her shoulder that she realizes her prince charming had asked her a question. He was inquiring to where she left her car. With an embarrassed smile and slight shrug, she explains she takes the bus everywhere.

Tonight she feels like Rose Tyler, after being whisked away by her magical doctor, or maybe a romanticized version of the myth between Persephone and Hades. The metaphor, she finds, is unimportant in the grand scheme of things. There are so many moments from the night flying through her head; she isn't sure which one is her favorite. They all brought a certain kind of delight.

**0o0O0o0O0o0O0o0O0o0**

"If you knew how many times I thought about you, I would be thoroughly embarrassed."

Lizzie feels a blush creep up her neck. That certainly isn't something she'd expect on a first date. The statement gives her a vague inclination as to the numerous moments she has occupied his thoughts. She watches shyly as her date's mouth fell open slightly, almost as if surprised by what he has just confessed. He lifts a hand to his face, rubbing his temple in what could only be described as dissatisfaction. He uttered an oath under his breath before continuing.

"And I've managed to make myself sound like a complete stalker in under fifteen minutes. That has to be a record."

She tells him a joke then. Something inconsequential and diverting. It's meant to reroute his attention. What he said was sweet, in its odd little way, and she doesn't want him to feel embarrassed by it, or God forbid regret it. Anyways, she thinks he lacks the kind of obsession necessary stalking in him. For some reason or other, Elizabeth Bennet feels safe around this practical stranger and that alone convinces her that he doesn't have any machinations to kill her after dinner. That was the only reason she agreed to this. Though with his jet black hair, chiseled figure, and designer suits emanate importance and inspire intimidation he seems caring and nice. Still confused, she ponders as to why _she _was here with _him. _He belongs in a museum of beautiful things. Not with her.

Compared to thisAdonis of a man, her looks were quite plain. Her hand instinctively flew to her frizzy hair, unconsciously rubbing a piece between her fingers. She knew for a fact that her skin wasn't exactly blemished but was still far from being free of imperfections. The entirety of her body was tall and in decent shape but not skinny in an esthetically pleasing way .

But none of this preexisting knowledge mattered to her now, not with him. He gives her a disarming smile, almost as if he anticipates her coming line of questioning.

She glances up from her chicken parmesan and tentatively inquires, "Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

"Why did you ask me to dinner? I don't mean to be rude, it's just-"

He puts up a hand- to politely cut her off. After chewing a bite of his food, he speaks.

"You give me this indescribable feeling. Unless calling it 'indescribable' is actually describing it. In which case, you give me the best describable feeling. I want more of that."

And just like that, he put an end the insecurity. It was like a fairy tale. She found herself no longer wishing to be just _a_ princess; she wants to be _his _princess.

"… really?" she asks meekly. After he nods, she just kind of stops talking. She isn't used to this kind of attention. Lizzie felt a fluttering in her nerves, not entirely sure what she thinks of it.

**0o0O0o0O0o0O0o0O0o0**

The food was heavenly but it paled to the ambience in which she was spending the evening. She doubts that , after parting ways, she will even remember what she ate in the first place. The candles and colors that surround her are breathtaking, even more so than the prices she gaped after glancing at the menu.

She steals a glance at him. His green eyes are locked and focused on her. The look he gives is almost expectant, like he is waiting for her to spark up new conversation. Her face burns as she searches her mind for stories, topics, and questions – anything! Thoroughly humiliated, Elizabeth is incapable of providing anything other than an apology.

"I haven't provided very stimulating conversation, have I? It seems that I have a very intricate thought process… one that always freezes up when people talk to me. All that comes out is a mish mash of petty small talk."

"I decided a while ago that I would give up everything, just for a chance to talk to you about nothing."

And with that, they retreat once again into silence.

It's exceedingly agreeable.

**0o0O0o0O0o0O0o0O0o0**

He said all these perfect things. They were still making her swoon. She no longer felt as weary about dating as she did at the beginning of the night. Looking at the world around her, Elizabeth can't help but feel a little disenchanted when it comes to matters of romance. See, her sister Jane had recently been in a relationship with a business man like William Darcy. The poor girl was still recovering from the fall.

Only last month, Charles Bingley decided that life in the city wasn't for him, so he left… without a word. Jane was still crying, as she has been for weeks. Lizzie began covering her sister's shifts at the local Starbucks, much to said sisters despair. Jane is quite the mother hen, insisting that her younger sister tends to push herself to the point of exhaustion. Elizabeth doesn't mind though. To her it is simple; they need the money to make the rent next month so she needs that extra time.

But maybe, just maybe with the entrance of William Darcy into her life comes the delivery of some much desired luck.

_A/N:_

_HEY. WHAT. IS. UP.  
(rhetorical or not? ….haha. irony)_

_Sorry if it didn't live up to the expectations set. I mean, I didn't expect twenty two people to take the time and tell me they enjoyed it. So, yeah, I hoped you did like it because I spent some serious thought one it. _

_I wanted to give an insight to Lizzie. I guess it's almost an insight to her concerns and reflections of self worth really. I hope she didn't seem whiny, because she really wasn't meant to. Just like Darcy in the last chapter, these little internal monologues are meant to create a kind of attachment to the character through a sympathetic mind. Regardless, this is why I had the perspective change at the end of the last chapter. I wanted to set my audience up for a shift to the point of view. _

_So once again, I hope you liked it and I urge you to review and privy me to your opinion._


	3. Like a Bad Dream

**Addiction**

William Darcy is no prince charming. He is the troll or the dragon or the wizard. The villain. This knowledge was revealed to Elizabeth by her sister Jane. Lovely sweet Jane. Lonely sobbing Jane.

These lonesome sobs were what came in the aftermath of the force named William Darcy. Also known as Charles Bingley's closest friend and confidant. He's why Jane cries. He convinced Charlie to leave the city: to leave Jane. He convinced his friend that Jane didn't really care for him, let alone love him. He encouraged him to run off. To get away. To leave it all behind and find a new more suitable girl.

He did all of that knowing full well that Jane did love Charles Bingley. More than William or Charlie could ever comprehend.

Truly the work of villain.

So now Elizabeth is just staring at a napkin. There are digits scribbled on this napkin. His phone number is written on this napkin. He wanted her to call him. He wanted to see her again. While her mind is muddled and her glumness growing, she asks herself a question.

Was it all a petty joke to him?

Maybe he just couldn't stop. Like an addiction. Perhaps after ruining Jane Bennet's life, he wanted to do the same to Elizabeth Bennet's being. William would make her fall in love, just to drop her from the highest height. He'd like to watch as she shatter; watch as her heart cracked.

This is what she had to convince herself of. Nobody was just happy and nice anymore. Everyone was never as they truly should or seemed to be, Lizzie told herself. Jane is sad. Charlie is bad. William is evil. But what was she?

Elizabeth is disenchanted.

She's disenchanted with fairytales. She's disillusioned with love. She's disappointed with William Darcy. She's sick and tired of things not turning out like they should. Jane shouldn't have to cry. Charlie should've never left. Jane should be happy with Charlie. William should've never interfered. He should have never invited Lizzie to dinner. He shouldn't have changed her.

Elizabeth could admit it now. William Darcy had changed her. He made her feel like she deserved more than working at the local Starbucks, than living in a tiny apartment, like she was worth something better. After a single date, he made her feel like she was worth something to him. But that was a lie. It was all a lie.

In conclusion to these thoughts, she rips up the napkin; never to be tempted into contacting him. With a single toss into the trash can, it's like he never entered into that Starbucks… into her life. Though even after his number is destroyed and discarded, it's hard to let go of all the questions swirling in her broken little thoughts. Like why he'd hurt Jane. Like why he'd hurt her. Like why he'd do any of hit.

And why she couldn't find it in herself to truly hate him.

She couldn't help but wonder what would happen if she saw him again. Would she forgive him if he even asked? _No_, she told herself, _you have to remember how this feels. Right now. He did this to you. Remember that._

In light of the events she's been subject to lately, Lizzie's recently come to the conclusion that a lot of people will take your heart out and that she just needs to be patient and wait for someone to the put it back in.

_Authors Note: I know this one is kind of short but it was necessary. I promise the next chapter will be extra interesting. Also, I'm sorry it took so long to update. I've been caught up with __**Life With Darcy.**__ Which you should totally check out._

_I also encourage you to review. Tell me what you think. Any ideas you have for stories._

_Go for it._

_Peace out._


End file.
